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In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
“What does it say, Sanso?”
The four travelers had arrived on the island in patchy swirling fog in a field full of cucumber plants and sundials. The sundial nearest to Sanso had a letter tied to the handle with blue ribbon.
“If that’s not for me, I don’t know what is,” he snorted, untying the letter as Lisa looked at him in amazement.
“Really, Sanso, that seems so implausible,” she said.
“What does it say?”bq(Quote).“And we start to hope that if we keep on digging,” Sanso read, “All the way to the core, if we don’t stop, if we perforate the land like a honeycomb, if we make it as flimsy as silk, maybe it will suddenly collapse in on itself. And then, like a tray piled with cups of coffee and cookies that crashes to the floor in a mess of crumbs and glass, it will all mix together.
The upper part and the lower part will blend. And the rules will change. And we’ll be able to say with a sigh of relief: Here is a piece of sky mixed with a cracked piece of sea; here is Shujaiyeh mixed with Sderot; here is Zeitoun mixed with the Mount of Olives; here is compassion mixed with relief; here is one human being mixed with another. above, and with them build a new land.”
“Oh my,” said Fanella, “Are you sure we’ve come to the right place?”
“And an entire people will rise to the surface of the earth,” Sanso continued, “ Pale and faded, blinded by the sun that beats down on the land. And we will stand in silence, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the light. And as we stand there in silence, the fear and anxiety will gradually creep into our heart, that while we were finding refuge in subterranean Gaza, the land above took its own life, was left behind and emptied out.”
“Gorden Bennet,” said Lisa.
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
The whales’ dance on the dark bluish background lit by the tiniest reflection on floating seahorses and other sea creatures, made the scenery look like an eerie night skyline, full of moving stars.
The added feeling of weightlessness was empowering, and soon, the three queens passed side glances, barely interested by the words of wisdom of the hologram, and catching each other’s mind, almost asked their question at the same time.Terry was the quickest this time, “Please, please, can you do a rendition of the Name Game with your disco ball lights, we’re all dying to do a dance! Please?”
Interestingly, the Hologram didn’t show any hesitation as it started to sing, and the three queens were all glowing as they adjusted their wigs, fins and other appendages.
The Name Game
Terry!
Terry, Terry bo Berry Bonana fanna fo Ferry
Fee fy mo Merry, Terry!
Sadie! Sadie, Sadie bo Badie Bonana fanna fo Fadie
Fee fy mo Madie, Sadie!
Come on everybody!
I say now let’s play a game
I betcha I can make a rhyme
Out of anybody’s name …The lights were on, and the dresses glittered, Terry in the spur of the moment added kelp extensions to her wig to match the sardine tones of her suit, while Sadie’s only concession to fashion was a little glowing golden jellyfish that seemed to match her bob cut, and made for a funny pulsating hat.
Adamus was on, and unstoppable
The first letter of the name,
I treat it like it wasn’t there
But a B or an F, or an M will appear
And then I say Bo add a B
Then I say the name and Bonana fanna and a fo
And then I say the name again
With an F very plain and a fee fy and a mo
And then I say the name again
With an M this time
And there isn’t any name that I can’t rhyme.A chorus of dolphins tried to join, having Consuela burst hysterically into peals of unstoppable laughter.
Consuela!
Consuela, Consuela bo Bonsuela Bonana fanna fo Fonsuela
Fee fy mo Monsuela, Consuela!
But if the first two letters are ever the same,
I drop them both and say the name
Like Bob, Bob drop the Bs Bo ob
For Fred, Fred drop the Fs Fo red
For Mary, Mary drop the Ms Mo ary
That’s the only rule that is contrary.Maurana was shaking her head in seducing moves, pretending not to die of envy of the others, and expecting her turn.
And the music went on…Okay? Now say Bo: Bo
Now Belen without a B: Elen
Then Bonana fanna fo: bonana fanna fo
Then you say the name again with an F very plain: Felen
Then a fee fy and a mo: fee fy mo !
Then you say the name again with an M this time: Melen
And there isn’t any name that you can’t rhyme
Maurana! Maurana, Maurana bo Baurana Bonana fanna fo Faurana
Fee fy mo Aurana, Maurana!And they continued with all sorts of names for quite a while, even some of the whales’ and dolphins’ who were obviously enjoying the interlude.
“Did you get all that on video?” Maurana asked Sadie.
“Of course I did, the ezapper got it all. Linda Paul and the network won’t believe their eyes, it’s some heavy material! Even better than gold bars!” Sadie could barely believe what had just happened.The whales seemed to have been so thrilled that after a moment of silence, a smaller one broke off the cycle, went to the huge crystal and took a heart shaped shard of it to offer them.
“I guess that’s their way of burning a DVD, what do you think?” Consuela was blissfully hopeless with technology, but could also have some moments of brilliance.
“We should go now” Sadie said looking up from the ezapper “it looks like some unidentified giant blue crab is coming at us, and we better let the whales handle it.”
“Are we going through that awful sewer again?” Maurana was starting to get green at the idea.
“I don’t think so, I had Sanso pick us up at the underwater cave thanks to Consuela surprise reconnaissance mission. He just arrived and he just texted me his location. It’s not far from here. He seems to have managed to herd a few octopi to carry us across. Always surprisingly resourceful this one, I might start to like him…”
Snapping from her emotions, she continued
“Time to say your adieus to 2222 ladies. Tonight, everyone’s a winner. We’re going to be famous.”In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
The aftershock of the surge at the Three Kings’ Parade started to hit full blast at the portals initial location, thus effectively linking old mummies energy to the bodies there that were hit by Mari Fe, and for he most part still lying unconscious.
The combination of energies started to make them arise and walk like mindless zombies, intoning old guttural sounds in cadence in a language that sounded like Italian poetry.
There you had the Balthazar, Rogelio, Dru and alter-Ed who all woke up at once, and even Sanso who had been hit (while impersonating a Portal Worker) started to feel oddly strange.Noticing the atypical occurrence, Arona, whom Janet seemed to have had taken a sudden liking to (blame it on her Yankee side), started to look at her brood and rally them for a safe and prompt exit.
“What is it Arona dearie?” Janet didn’t seem worried. She was a Surge Team member after all, and a zombilic epidemic (zombies energy coming from wormholes) wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.
“I fear that although your presence is most delightful, we shall be on our way.” Arona’s old sabulmantium had shown persistent and remarkable hints of dragon energy in this dimension that, although a bit different and looking in her mind’s eye like red flying snakes bearing impossibly long mustache, resonated quite well —not to mention she was eager to part with such bizarre company.
“Alrighty, let’s keep in touch dearie,” Janet added, covering their escape, not without winking at Sanso as he was the last one to leave through the map portal, leaving her to look for her missing flushed friends, Mari Fe and Pearl.
Unbeknownst to everyone, the picture-taking lady had camouflaged herself to look like a red sofa nearby the hot pink leather chaise lounge in the corner of the room, and was documenting silently the promising epic battle of Janet and Riff Raff against the zombies.
And for sure, Janet was still ready to make good use of the pocket-sized forklift to move away all cumbersome bodies,… as there was bound to be casualties.In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
“I wish I knew, Ed. And don’t call me Chicken!” she added crossly. Mari Fe wasn’t sure what to do next. She needed to keep an eye on Ed, but she needed to revive Baltazar and get him in place for the exchange of the Kings during the parade.
“Help me carry him up to the attic, Ed. I’ll tie him up and we can decide what to do with him later.” and then exclaimed, “ Oh lordy, what now!” as the doorbell rang. It was Rogelio from next door, the man who was to play the part of Baltazar in the parade.
Mari Fe didn’t know what to do so she hit him over the head with a handy tagine that was displayed on her old Micronesian teak cabinet.
“Firmly handled, Chicken”, Ed said, “But why on earth would you do that ?”
“Don’t call me Chicken!” Mari Fe replied, thinking to herself I really must stop resorting to violence. “Help me carry him up to the attic, and we’ll tie him up with B… with that man.”
Halfway up the stairs Mari Fe had an impulse to hit Ed over the head, with the detachable head of one of her mannequins. Plunging headlong from one disaster to another, she wished she had done it after the other two bodies were already in the attic. Now she had three large men cluttering up her stairs, and nobody to help her carry them up to the attic.
“I’m in a pickle now”, she said. “I hope Bee arrives soon, with Janet and Pearl.”
In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
The man in vermillion robes was indeed the real Balthazar. Mari Fe had scheduled the portal to bring him from the past earlier, and it was quite annoying it all happened while Ed was in the bathroom.
What was he doing there anyway ? She hold a gasped back when she realized about his moustache. It really was changing his face and she noticed for the first time how slim his lips were. It was all camouflaged by his waxed moustache before and now, naked in the open. She blushed at the words in her head, she had imagined something else.
The man in the red robes moaned. She had to take care of the situation before Ed realized what was going on. He was not to know. She didn’t think and took a heavy china cup from her new Ikea poplar shelves, and smashed it on the man’s head.
“Firmly handled, Chicken”, Ed said, “But why on earth would you do that ?”
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Peackle Handlebut wasn’t really that old hag of a lady she projected the appearance of, but she preferred to test the sincerity of people through this rather crude means.
In fact, she wasn’t a lady or a human at all. She was an E’elim, as they called their race when they had use for words. Their true form wasn’t really physical, and their existence was mostly ignored — a fact that was not a small feat, for even the ancient race of the Guardians mostly didn’t know of them at the time when they were in the system of Alienor.
In fact, their consciousness was quite different from the rest of the races, and in many ways, it was one of the most ancient one, having been present for countless ages.
They’d known the times of the appearance of the third moon around Duane.
They had even witnessed the emergence of that third planet, which is now mostly forgotten, but was then called B’si before it was called Phreal by the Guardians.
And they were there at the time of the separation of the Great Panye into the twin planets now known as Duane and Murtuane.The E’elims where riders of the elements; usually only one of the six elements from which everything stemmed: airs, earths, woods, flames, waters, and forgotten (or spirit).
Learning to ride dragons was something new for Peackle, as they were powerful blends of the purest forms of these elements, and she was wanting to take the risk of revealing herself to have that experience…In reply to: Strings of Nines
It was not before Leörmn suggested at Irtak the overlooked possibility that Irtak seriously considered the option.
After all, the batty toothless woman who had come forth (almost in jest it had seemed at first) wasn’t really an obvious choice to make a dragon rider of the twin Heckle and Jeckle.Well, who was he to judge anyway? He was even starting to find the idea less and less incongruous. She would perhaps make for a good companion.
As they said, dragon breeders may just be failed dragon riders, but Irtak wasn’t sure that it was close to the truth, or any truth for that matter.As his choice was finally made, he took a carrier fincheon from a cage smelling of bird’s droppings and started to write on a piece of torn and pissy parchment with a crow’s feather to Lady Peackle Handlebut.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
Marie put the the perfect husband down. She was looking for a rope and tied it to the door handle while she went for the knees, thankful for the power.
In exchange for some strange things, it had been agreed that Franiel’s angel met Derwent, a very ordinary mortal. Bit disappointed, she chuckled. Most of the others are lovely and colorful.
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Sha and Glo were looking at the Aerial Pond of Cloud Fishes in their blobby glowing spectral form.
“A shame we’re dead… That school of fish is sure somethin’”
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking Shar?”
“Well, of course; we’re dead and psychic, bloody hell Glor!”Glor was glad that she was dead sometimes, and this was such a time. She’d found Sharon’s usual rude rebuking was far easier to handle in that state.
“Well, I would love to dive in that pool too, like in that documentary…”
“Exactamundo! Have the school of fishes eat dead skin and give it back its young fresh and peachy glow.”“I think we better find some quick way to get back in Shar…”
“Not to bloody worry Glor, it already looks like our subliminal sex enticements have worked very well; would be a shame no one would get preggers with all that fornication going around!”
“I’m starting to wonder what it would be like if that’s the nine-titted alien going first though… I’m told their pregnancy is quicker than human’s…”In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“What on earth is Al suggesting now, I wonder” mused Becky, who was catching up with the latest additions to the Reality Play. Frowning, she wondered how to handle it. It was often a challenge when one of the other writers interfered with her story line plans.
“Well, be honest, Becky” she said to herself “You were floundering a bit with all this boring tropical romance stuff, wafting around the Facility with nothing more interesting to do than sip cool drinks and wink at Gayesh.”
Becky put the sheaf of printed pages on the table beside her, lost in thought. The warm still evening air was beginning to be stifling, and she felt trapped, smothered in the blue velvet embrace of the night, sickened by the scent of the perfumed flowers and rotting fruit, and suddenly bored beyond endurance.
“I’m going back home” she decided. “I’ll leave a deposit of cells here, swap places with Becky Tooh, and she can come back here and take her chances with Gayesh and the clone experiment.”
Perhaps her babies and her lush of a husband back home would be more exciting.
“I can always swap back again later if it gets tedious in New Venice” she added, having a moment of trepidation at the thought of her responsibilities as a mother of triplets. She liked to keep her options open, keep an escape plan on the back burner.
With a light heart and a spring in her step, she grabbed the papers off the table and ran upstairs to pack.
“Maybe a stop over in Long Pong on the way” she decoded. “Oh look at that!” she said to herself “I meant to say decided and wrote decoded instead. Pfft” she grumbled “That must be because I’m worried about decoding all the other strange additions to the Reality Play that have been spewed forth lately. Sheesh, do Al and Sam honestly think I will ever catch up now? Oh bugger it all, Long Pong, here I come!”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory was digging in her garden. Today was hot and sunny, but she was an archeologist, she could handle it!
She had a dream last night about a little bird talking to her and telling her there was something precious buried in her garden… well it was something like that, she couldn’t really remember… maybe it was in another dream… did she watch a series last night? The boys were still sleeping soundly, so she’d ask later maybe.The ground of the garden was tough! no wonder she never dug it before, or even did any gardening.
Crap! She was wondering where the treasure could be, her garden was big, and she had begun under a tree, but maybe it wasn’t there… it seemed to her the perfect location though… it was like an X showing the place. It had always seemed a bit crooked to her anyway. She could get rid of it shortly with a truck… She’ll ask the boys later for that… maybe near the portal stones?
She left here digging under the crooked tree and started removing the stones of what she used to call the portal.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Fabella had just entered the room. She was chatting noisily, as if someone would answer to her. The sound of her footsteps was playing strange ripples on the wooden floor which were mesmerizing to look at.
“Years ago, I’d have felt obliged to answer her” she was thinking, as she was hovering over her body looking at the freckled nurse.
“I’d felt obliged by some nonsensical politeness to give her the impression that I was, somewhat, paying attention to her as a person —if not to her chatter.”
She laughed wholeheartedly.“Oh, you’re smiling Madam, but that ain’t the whole thing, you know! Would you imagine that Miss Elena, after such an outcry would have become wiser, but no…”
The voice was continuing an endless litany of gossips.
It was obvious that the nurse wasn’t trying to get any answer, much less a conversation from the old body she was giving her daily injection to, she had found out. All the more since that body was so weak and talking was taking more energy than she was willing to give to this action. It was so much more exhilarating to play out of it.
She was proud of herself, having come to a place not only to feel accepting of that bodily condition that had left her riveted to her chair and bed at an early age, but more so, to feel grateful for it.The first steps had been the most difficult: a whole new world so vast it was feeling as wide as a crocodile’s mouth menacing to engulf her. But like the crocodile’s mouth, it was easier to shut it close than one would think, and she had found out that she would snap back to her body each time she was distressed. Quite the opposite of what an adventurous mind like hers would endeavour to conquer. She had no care for her dying body, not with this new-found freedom.
Perhaps it was a mere springboard for her to get accustomed to death. That’s what her brother had told her once. But he was so fully soaking in religious beliefs that she didn’t know how to handle that he had merely said to her as a gift.
All that was important was the exploration, which was real to her. And it was, not only to her, but to others too.For instance, she was now walking, still around Fabella, observing the interplay of the nurse’s energy field with the other people around her, even though Fabella had finished dealing with her minutes ago.
In fact, she knew more about Fabella than she could have learned in years of monologues with her. Things like that Ricardo wasn’t the caring guy he was pretending to be with her. But then, she didn’t know how to tell her (and if she had even the right to). She had the feeling that perhaps Ricardo and Fabella’s stories were just distractions that she had found to limit herself in the familiar of her little explorations.
There was so much more that she could do, she could feel it. There were no boundaries to it.
She could will herself to be in any place, unnoticed by most.Perhaps she could try a “jump” to another location. Trusting that she would come back, as she always had. If if she wouldn’t… well, that could well mean an improvement after all.
What about something easy? Like some uncharted paradisaical island in the Pacific…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
I’m worried about Al, Tina, said Becky. He’s really acting strange lately, have you noticed?
Noticed! Of course I’ve bloody noticed! exclaimed Tina.
Aw, Tina! Becky gave Tina a warm hug.
I don’t think he’s getting enough sleep, Becky, Tina continued. Like for example, you know what you were writing in the Reality Play about Becky and the clones? Well, he thinks it’s real! He thinks the babies are clones. He even thinks YOU’RE a clone, Becky!
Oh surely not, Tina! Ahahahah! Becky couldn’t help laughing.
It’s no laughing matter, Backy, said Tina reproachfully, but Becky’s laughter was infectious and Tina started to smile. Oh stop making me laugh! I’m worried!
A gurgling sound erupted from one of the baby Moses baskets. Those babies have such a sense of humour for such tiny things! said Tina, smiling down at the sunny smiling little faces.
Haha yes, when they’re not screaming with rage, laughed Becky.
Tina frowned. I wonder what Al sees when he looks at them?
What do you mean, Tina?
Well, didn’t you read Al’s last entry in the Play? Don’t ask me for a link, Becks, look it up yourself!
Becky rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. You mean about them being emotionless?
He’s reconfiguring their energy to fit his delusions, Becky. He’s becoming so immersed in the Play that he’s believing it’s real . It’s all a bit worrying, because he’ll be going on about dragons and mermaids in the apartment next, or talking chairs or something. I don’t know how to handle it.
Hey, I have an idea! Becky said. How about that doctor Muir?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Ella Marie put the encounter to the back of her mind, and whistled loudy and kept her eyes averted when dusting the mummy case during the following months. It wasn’t until the floods of the following spring that she heard Elioctyl’s voice again, urging her to take action, that now was the perfect opportunity.
Pssst! Ella! Do it now, NOW!
NO! shouted Ella Marie.
Suit yourself, Honey, replied her husband Arthur, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a thermos and screwing the lid back on.
Ella Marie spun round, saying HUH? Yes, I mean yes, please.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and tutted. You said No, Ella, who was you talking to anyway?
Oh Lordy, Art, I was just saying NO to all the flooding, NO more rain, and all….Ella Marie replied, but her mind was racing.
Art Honey, why don’t you wade round to your mothers and see if she’s ok, why dontcha, and I’ll start moving stuff up into the attic. River’s gonna burst its banks tonight, I reckon, we oughta do what we can now.
Don’t get lifting nothing too heavy, ya hear? Leave anything you can’t manage for me, I’ll do it when I get back, Arthur replied.
As soon as Art was out of the door and down the porch steps, Ella Marie raced out the back door and into the garage. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she felt light as air, and fit as a twenty year old. Her flashlight beam swept the garage…she didn’t know what, precisely, she was looking for, but she knew she’d find it.
Aha! Ella Marie spotted a coil of washing line rope, and a tarpaulin. Stuffing the flashlight into her pocket, she grabbed the surfboard off the hooks on the wall and dragged it outside, the rope and tarpaulin under her arm. Quickly she tied the tarpaulin to the surfboard, tethering it to the garage door handle while she went back inside for the oars out of the uninflated dinghy. The flood water was past her ankles now, inching towards her knees, as she set off for the museum, pulling the surfboard behind her, thankful for the power blackout and the dark streets.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The glowing light was showing a familiar face…
— So the boy is wavering?
— Yes. He is uncertain of the path… Does seem to have difficulty to trust his calling and take responsibilities being the owner of…
— He’ll do that. We can’t let him run away from it, nor afford the time of little vacationing. Did you secure the item?
— Yes. But you know it is worthless unless willingly handed over by the previous owner, right?
— Certainly. But I feel he’ll soon wish it back.
— I have words of cankerous corruption, endemic to where he was sent.
— Precisely.
Glasgow, Scotland, February 25 th 2068, Wrick Fundation
— So Cuthbert has refused?
— Yes. With his sister busy with her first-born, she can’t take on that much responsibility either.
— This is most regrettable. Lord Wrick’s will was perfectly clear though. Should none of the twins accept running his empire, all of its wealth would be used for humanitarian projects of the Fundation. A week before, Orkney Islands
— Cuthbert, you must accept.
— Please, don’t wear yourself out Pope. Your body is weak.Cuthbert’s face was drenched by emotion. Despite his small frame and his scrawny body, Lord Hilarion Wrick’s strong will was still present, as if etched on his face by all the years of reign. He wouldn’t take a “no” for answer, even now he was dying, just as he had never accepted it in his nearly 120 years of existence.
— Cuthbert, listen to me. All this time you and your sister have spent at the Manor, all of the time I spent with you, this was not meant for naught, you know that. I was not some old decrepit rag of an elder waiting for his death cushioned between the laughters of his great-grand children. I noticed how you and your sister handled at an early age what I have been showing to you. The books,… the mummy even. This was only a test. What I had not found in Sean, nor in his son, I found out in you and your sister. Mind you, it took me that long, but it was worth the wait, and I know how to be patient.
— You’re repeating yourself Pope, I know this story. I am very grateful for all that you did, all the knowledge I owe to you, but I can’t accept. It’s just… too much! I just want to spend these moments with you.
— You just cannot whine throughout all of your existence Cuthbert. You chose to be born here, at this moment, in that family. There is no point in refusing what you have placed on your path.
— I’m not whining! It’s just that… I just want a normal life! answered Cuthbert vehemently
— Very well then. The face on the Lord was resolute despite his writhing in pain. You will have to see how much life is nothing meant to be normal. In the meantime, I would appreciate your letting me die alone.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Elvira was tucking into some reindeer stew left over from Becky and Sean’s wedding when she telepathically tuned into Becky’s distress signal. Chewing thoughtfully, Elvira tried to make sense of the visual imagery she was receiving. She seemed to be getting a mixed message; was it a nun, or was it a tart? She reminded herself to trust her impressions, and not discount them even if they seemed incongruous or unlikely, and accepted that Becky was indeed in some kind of tarty nun trouble. The question was, where was Becky.
Elvira pushed her empty plate away, and focused on the situation. AHA! Nutley Park, 25th bush on the left.
Boris, I’m going out, she said. Becky’s in a spot of tarty nun trouble in Nutley park.
Right Ho, dear, shall I come and help?
Another image of popped into Elvira’s head of the see-through black mini dress. Er, no Boris, I’ll handle this myself.
And with that, Elvira, sprightly old crone that she was (and fortified with mushroom laced reindeer stew) bustled off to hail a gondola cab, carrying a large carpet bag containing a selection of hastily chosen clothing.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Vessie Darl, Sha and I are just popping down to the beach for some more of them special beauty sea waters you told us about.
Great idea, Gloria, responded Veranassessee vaguely. She watched absent-mindedly as Gloria’s generous body, clad only in a skimpy red bikini, disappeared down the corridor. There was something about that shade of red tugging at her memory. Vermillion red …
Red! PLAN B! Oh my God! how could she have forgotten!
It was two days since she had called him, that meant he would be here soon, that did not leave her much time to prepare.
Everything has to be perfect. She wears a silk vermillion red camisole, the one he gave her, scarcely covered by lush black velvet and topped with bright red lipstick. She casts her eyes critically around the room. It is nearly three years since she has seen him, she doesn’t want to spoil this moment. The glasses of soft red merlot are ready, a plate of miniature liqueur chocolates on a plate by the bed.
She shakes out her long dark hair and looks in the mirror. Her chocolate skin glows, her eyes are bright. She will do. She touches the red silk camisole … it is still beyond her comprehension how she can have forgotten.
When he arrives he is beautiful. Too beautiful. she thinks. It is so easy for him, effortless. He appraises the room and laughs casually, he knows how hard she has tried. Agent V he says, a pleasure to see you again. He kisses her. She remembers everything.
He takes a sip of the wine. She watches him, unsure of herself. He has a black bag with him.
He looks at her, sees her looking at the bag, and smiles slowly, I have something to show you, Agent V, he says, and she can sense his pride, the barely suppressed excitement in his voice.
He opens the bag carefully, pulls out a small white box, handles it lovingly. Two years experimentation in the Russian lab, he says softly, delicate threads of spun blue bonnet spider silk and yet strong enough to hang a bridge on.
He looks at her. Come here. he says
She hesitates for just a moment thinking of Mahiliki, and then inwardly shrugs, bugger it, I never really wanted to live on Fukitupi island and have loads of babies anyway. She moves over to him. He takes the transparent silk and slowly starts to wind the delicate thread around her wrists. Try and break it, he whispers in her ear, kisses her neck.
Then stops.
My God, what the fuck is that?
Veranassessee sighs.
No I swear Sha, I am telling you, I saw him go into Vessie’s room.
Oh my God Glor, he might be a murderer, or a bloody rapist even!
I tell you though, he were right bloody gorgeous.
Well never mind that! The door is locked Sha. I think we’d better shout out. Make sure she’s okay.
Right, good idea. And then if she doesn’t answer we can bash the door in and we can both pounce on him.
Right, on the count of three Glor, we’‘ll shout out, one… two… THREE!”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
V’ass placed the box carefully on the pier as soon as he got off the boat, and pulled his false handlebar moustach off with a yelp. Next to come off was the bowler hat, and shake out her tumble of blonde curls. V’ass shrugged off the charcoal grey pinstripe suit jacket and unbuttoned the crisp white shirt. With a long sigh of relief, she started to unwrap the bandages that had squashed her ample bosom to her chest.
As the bandages fell in loops on the floor, they wrapped themselves around the box, and in an unfortunate twist of fate, when V’ass bent over to pick them up she inadvertently yanked the top of the box off.
Oh…MY…GOD! V’ass shrank backwards as hundreds of huge blue spiders spilled out of the box. She lost her footing, and fell backwards into the sea with a splash.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dr Bronkelhampton could not help but smile as she unwrapped the bandages and saw the peach smooth skin underneath. So far, so good. All was going to plan beautifully.
Veranassessee had departed ten minutes ago to greet the two latest arrivals off the plane, and more would be arriving on the island over the next few days and weeks. They would have to be handled with care. Dr Bronkelhampton hoped they would be willing to participate in the experiments, or “treatments”, once they fully appreciated the benefits. But, if not…., she shrugged, there was really no way off the island except by her own say so.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
……In case you feel like talking, don’t hesitate any moment, I’ll be here. Anytime.
Love,
PS, Becky added as an afterthought in her letter to dear old Wrick, Al’s so looking forward to meeting you in the ‘Amusement Park’ in Central Park, I hope you will disillusion him gently as to the nature of projecting and out-of body excursions……I will leave it to you, Wrick old boy, to decide how best to handle it. Ah, you wise old buffoon, I can hear you saying it now: Al’s choices are perfect, as are yours. Becky smiled fondly and added to the postscript: Wrick, you’re a brick, old stick.
